


Always Two, There Are

by DarthAstris



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dark Leia Organa, F/M, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Interrogation, Jedi Finn (mention), Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Multi, Post-TLJ, Psychological Torture, So Many Gray Areas, TRoS doesn't exist, The Resistance Is Not Nice, Torture, mentions of abuse, spy hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAstris/pseuds/DarthAstris
Summary: Armitage Hux, facing continual abuse and the destruction of the First Order, comes to a difficult decision.Leia Organa, facing the fall of the Resistance and the last hope of the Republic, makes a desperate choice.Poe Dameron finds himself caught in the middle.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Armitage Hux & Leia Organa
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	Always Two, There Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).



> Written as part of the Star Wars Rare Pairs exchange for 2020. 
> 
> I had a great time writing the dynamics between these three, and I wish I'd had more time with them! It's something I think we were robbed of the chance to see in the sequels, this face off between the two opposing generals, so thank you, Filigranka, for your request! I hope this does it justice! :)
> 
> Huge thank you, also, to my fantastic line editor, Y! (Galaxy's best editor!)

***34 ABY***

Leia's heart ached as she sat beside Rey, glancing at the halves of her brother's – her father's – broken saber, clutched in the young woman's hands. 

Luke had become one with the Force without pain or regret. He had been ready.

But Leia wasn't.

She wasn't ready for more loss. She didn't know how much more she could stand.

Taking half of the kyber crystal from Rey, she closed her hand around it, expecting its warmth to soothe her pain.

"Luke is gone." Sadness weighed down Rey's usual exuberance. "I felt it." 

Leia nodded and looked away.

Half her heart, gone. Most of her hope, too.

The shattered crystal pulsed in her hand, its cerulean energy purpled momentarily by her despair.

"But it wasn't sadness or pain," Rey continued, "it was… peace and purpose." 

"I felt it, too," Leia said, glancing from her half of the kyber to the bit still shimmering, bright and blue, in Rey's palm. 

"How do we build the Rebellion from this?"

Leia placed her hand over Rey's.

_Always two, there are._

"We have everything we need."

* * * * * * * * *

"We have everything we need." Kylo's saber dissolved into its hilt with a hiss. He stepped aside. The corpse of the insectoid, Thyferran ruler thudded to the ground, headless. Their shiny carapace clattered against the stone floor.

Hux wrinkled his nose at the scent of ozone and charred ichor. 

"General, I want this entire city razed to the ground for their insolence."

Hux swallowed, already imagining the phantom pressure of a hand around his throat. He knew better than to argue, but the Zaltin Corporation's headquarters were in this city, and bacta production was not war materiel that could simply be discarded on the whims of a petulant child. He took a deep breath. "Supreme Leader, with all due respect—" 

His throat closed before he could even finish his sentence. Unseen hands slammed him to the ground. He managed to get one hand up in time to break his fall, but the crack of his wrist resounded through the cavernous audience chamber. Unable to gasp for breath, he couldn't even scream, though he was certain Ren could hear and feel his pain in his mind.

"I thought we understood one another," Kylo half-hissed, half-growled, the barely-checked fury in his voice rippling through the crushing force on Hux's body instead, "but it seems you require yet another lesson!"

Hux scrabbled at the floor with his good hand, but he was airborne again before he could find purchase. Flesh and bone reconnected with a permacrete column. This time he was able to tilt his head forward just enough to keep from fracturing his skull against the unyielding surface, though several ribs splintered on impact. Agony raced through his nerves, the wildfire of Ren's rage igniting the length of his spine.

Only when he released his hold on Hux's throat and allowed him to drop to the floor did the eerie silence of Ren's savagery break. Hux's wheezing and gasping echoed through the vaulted hall. 

"Bacta—" he coughed out, before Ren could choke him again. He squeezed his eyes shut and set his jaw against the pain. This monster would not enjoy the favor of his tears.

Ren snorted. "For you? Not yet."

"No… not… for me."

"What, then?" Ren barked, "Speak!"

Hux whimpered as he was lifted once more to be pressed against the cold, marble column, though Ren did not resume the pressure against his neck. 

"P-production… Bacta production is… centered here. We can't just… destroy everything." The Force around him trembled with Ren's anger, grinding Hux's fractured bones together, but he continued, undeterred. "We need their industry to remain as is. For the war effort. For our people."

He despised himself for having to speak so inclusively. Supreme Leader or not, the First Order did not belong to Ren. He was no part of it, and cared nothing for the people he expended and discarded.

Ren growled, a feral response his only answer to Hux's logic, and released him once again.

Hux collapsed, clutching at his side. His hand gripped the silken fabric of his uniform, just above his pistol. Again, temptation whispered to him, and again he silenced it. He had no chance of taking Ren down face to face. But, Ren would have his time. Just like everyone else who'd crossed Hux.

Hux was a patient man.

*ABY 35*

Patience was fine and well, but it only carried one so far when faced with a wall of ignorance and malice.

Hux had allowed himself to be cuffed, in hopes of convincing these Rebel imbeciles that he was on their side, but now he was feeling rather the imbecile, himself, for having done so. He'd overestimated their sense of honor and commitment to their own cause, which most certainly forbade the kind of treatment they'd laid on him since his arrival at their safe house.

"You can't do this," he sneered, holding his chin up despite the throbbing in his head. "Article 6 of the Galactic Concordance expressly forbids torture."

"Never stopped you, did it?" one of the soldiers snorted.

Hux's eyes narrowed. "The First Order never signed your useless treaty."

"Too bad," a woman laughed. "I guess it doesn't apply to you, then."

Hux exhaled and pressed his lips into a thin line of determination, continuing to glare at them. The fire of defiance burned in his eyes. Let them do their worst. He had survived torture at the hands of masters. Nothing these amateurs could do would break him.

Though, they would try.

A fist to the gut knocked the wind out of him, crumpling him like a wadded flimsiplast. He made no sound other than the forceful expulsion of breath and the struggle to bring in more air, which was too familiar to frighten him. He'd not give these barbarians the satisfaction of hearing his pain.

"I demand… to see… Organa," he gasped, once able to fill his lungs.

"You're not in a position to demand anything, scum."

They laid into him. Boots and fists met flesh with dull thuds and the occasional snap of a rib. Still, he grit his teeth and maintained his silence. It hurt. Stars, did it hurt. But he refused to cry out. He curled up and tensed all of his muscles, slight as they had become, and tried to protect his head behind his bound wrists. Eventually, someone gripped his hair and slammed his head into the ground, over and over again. An involuntary groan escaped him as darkness lanced through the bright white of the agony behind his eyes.

This couldn't be how it ended.

* * * * * * * * *

This couldn't be how it ended.

Leia turned the kyber shard over and over in her hand, hoping for the spark of its Living Force to guide her.

The Resistance was falling. World by world. Ally by ally. They had been abandoned at Crait, and over the following year even their greatest allies had succumbed to the might of the First Order, turning the fleeing, desperate Resistance cells away for fear of the destruction that had befallen other worlds. First Tah'Nuhna, then Corellia, Kuat, Coruscant, Thyferra… even Mon Cala and Ryloth, the oldest of Rebellion allies, had sent them on their way with minimal recruits and the barest resupply before the First Order had sailed in on star destroyers and smooth words, convincing each of them to forsake the Resistance in their greatest hour of need.

Leia closed her hand around the crystal, feeling its jagged edges dig into the flesh of her palm. 

The Dark Side had taken everything from her: her planet; her culture; her parents; countless friends; her biological father (upon whom she had wished nothing but death in the first place, though his loss might still be counted in that he had never faced justice for all the destruction he'd wrought); her career as a politician, for which she had worked and sacrificed her entire life; Lor San Tekka, a peaceful scholar and confidant; eventually, the entire New Republic itself; her beloved, if irascible husband; so many young, bright sparks who had been drawn to her flame and her promise of a better future; Ackbar, a long-time supporter and brilliant mind; her best friend, Amilyn Holdo; her twin brother, the hope of the Jedi and the Light; and now the Resistance itself, faltering on the brink of extinction. 

Hells, the Resistance wouldn't even have _existed_ in the first place if it hadn't been for Vader's lingering shadow casting a pall over the trust she'd worked so hard to build in the New Republic Senate.

At last… even her son had fallen, seemingly beyond return.

Why should she give the darkness any more?

…Why _shouldn't_ she?

Luke had warned her. The Dark Side promised easy solutions. Shallow, quick fixes to insurmountable problems. Temporary power for a lifetime of payment.

But, right now, that was what she needed most. She had already spent a lifetime paying for it, so why not cash in?

And if someone as upstanding as Mace Windu could supposedly let the Dark Side flow through him and remain unscathed, if someone as evil as Vader could supposedly have shrugged it off in the last minutes of his life, then…

Why couldn't she?

It wasn't as though General Hux had done anything to earn her compassion. He had murdered billions. The Disaster multiplied by a factor of ten. And she had felt them burn, all the way across the galaxy. Every loss a devastating ripple, building into a tsunami through the Force as the First Order swept across more star systems.

Whatever this ploy of his was, this game at turning traitor, she wasn't falling for it. The Resistance couldn't afford to.

No. She had no sympathy for General Hux.

She could hardly think of a more deserving candidate, if torture were going to be an option.

The thought tickled at her conscience and brought a blush to her cheeks. Torture was heinous. Worst of all, useless. And she knew, from her own experience, that even purely mental torture was as agonizing, if not more so, than its physical counterpart. But in the end… she wouldn't _really_ be hurting him…

_No._

She could do a lot of things in service to the greater good, but she would not lie to herself about the wrongness of it.

What she was about to do to that man would injure him for life, as Vader's mental violations had scarred her for decades afterward and, even now, occasionally woke her in cold sweats. Her pain now was as keen as it had been then. Coupled with ever-increasing loss, her heart constricted a little more with each new day. Sorrow crashed against her mental defenses like a churning, storm-tossed sea against ever-weakening breakers.

A tingling sensation drew her gaze back to the crystal. In her palm, blood red light pulsed from the core of the shard. A cry seemed to emanate from the kyber, but when she focused her attention she realized that its origin lay within her.

She blinked. Stared. The crystal remained a deep crimson.

A slip. One slip of her defenses was all it had taken.

She hadn't _fallen_ so much as simply tapped into the rage and grief that had been inside her all along. She'd known from the start of her Jedi training that such immense sorrow could not be contained forever. It was partly why she'd discontinued her Jedi training in the first place.

_Very well, then._

She would do what must be done. No more, no less.

* * * * * * * * *

So it was to be torture. After three days of less than gentle handling by his ‘rescuers,’ he’d suspected no less.

 _Very well, then,_ Hux thought, amused by the irony of sitting on the opposite side of the interrogation table from one of his previous victims.

"Dameron… I might've known," Hux sneered. "Where is she?"

The door slid shut behind the arrogant pilot, and he swung his leg over the low-backed chair in order to sit across from Hux, rather than pulling the chair out and taking his seat like a civilized person. 

"Stars, Hugs, what happened to you?"

Hux kept his bare shoulders squared and his back straight, even though agony rippled up his spine at assuming his typical, stiff posture without his brace. The scum who'd beaten him had taken it away and, capitalizing on his weakness, repeatedly kicked his back.

And now this man had the audacity to play at concern while continuing to mock him.

Hux snorted. He didn't need Dameron's pity or feigned innocence. "What do you think happened? I fell off my air bike? Where's Organa?"

Poe chewed on his bottom lip and looked him over. He shifted in his chair and set his datapad down on the table. "She sent me to check you out first."

"And do you like what you see?"

Poe glanced up again, his gaze traveling over the cuts on Hux's chest and the bruises on his swollen face before returning to the readout. "Normally, I'd have some sort of witty remark for that, but… No, actually. Who did this to you?"

"Are you really so naïve as to think your people incapable of violence?" He huffed out a pained breath. "Run along and fetch your mother, child; I've no patience left to deal with the likes of you."

Poe narrowed his eyes, but otherwise chose to ignore the remark. Silence governed. He looked back down at his datapad.

"The group that brought you in said you want to turn traitor. Why?"

"I thought you Rebels took in anyone who defected? You've certainly got your share of my Stormtroopers."

"Yeah, we do. But it's not like someone's just gonna give you the keys to the _Falcon_ , just because you showed up and said you wanted in. So, what's in it for you?"

"How about a lifetime away from that oaf your general calls a son? Is that reason enough? Although, judging by the treatment your people dole out, I suppose I'm not much better off here, am I?" 

Again, Poe ignored the bait. Hux was almost impressed, and also a little disappointed that he wasn't going to be able to rile the hot-headed pilot. He seemed to have learned some restraint since their encounter at Batuu.

"Come on, Hugs, you're gonna have to do better than that. Everyone knows the two of you are fucking."

That stung. More than the throbbing reminders from his many wounds.

Hux scoffed. He did his best to look offended. "We most certainly are not."

_Not anymore, anyway._

He and Kylo… He and _Ren_ , he told himself (the formality helped to dull the loss)… he'd had plans for them: playing off one another's strengths to their mutual advantage and ruling the galaxy together as an unstoppable force. But it wasn't meant to be. Ren had gone insane with power after he'd murdered Snoke (no, Hux had not believed for an instant that it had been the scavenger girl), abusing any who dared question him in his fits of unbridled rage. He had at his disposal the most brilliant minds the Empire and First Order had to offer, and he'd squandered every one of them on his mad quest for mystical knick-knacks and invisible might.

_Wasteful and selfish._

He'd ruined any chance for true order and defiled the very principles for which the Order stood.

Still, the dissolution of their – union? Tryst? Whatever it was – pained Hux. They had been perfect for one another, but Ren couldn't see it. Wasn't mature enough to wrangle his emotions.

Poe shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, man."

"We had you, you know," Hux interjects. "On Crait. We could've crushed your pathetic Resistance once and for all. We had you with Starkiller Base as well."

"So what stopped you?"

"Take one guess."

"Kylo Ren."

Hux's nose scrunched up at the name. "He's destroyed everything. So now, I'll destroy him. Simple as that."

Poe pushed the datapad and flimsiplasts aside and leaned in. "You expect me to believe that you, who've annihilated stars know how many people in the name of your Order – stars _themselves_ , for that matter – would give that all up just because you broke up with your boyfriend?"

A sneer answered Poe's disbelief. "There is no 'Order' anymore. He's ruined it. He doesn't care about the ideals we stand for, he's just mad with power. The sooner he falls, the better."

Poe leaned back, leather jacket creaking as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"The general can read your mind, you know. She'll know if you're lying. Better it doesn't come to that."

"I don't care if you believe me. But you know I have the means to get you what you want."

"And what is that?" Poe raised an eyebrow.

"Kylo Ren."

"Huh." Poe watched him for a while. "And what is it that you expect to get in return?"

"A fair trade. Kylo Ren in exchange for a guarantee of my safety and freedom."

"Huh," Poe said again, shifting to get up. "Well, we'll see what the general has to say about this."

The door slid open behind Poe. "The general has plenty to say about it," Leia said, narrowing her eyes at Hux.

Hux met her gaze with parallel disdain. He wasn't going to beg. This was to be an objective, negotiated exchange amongst… equals, loath as he was to admit it. Though, he acknowledged that she had certainly earned her position. In the end, they needed the information he had: she wanted her son back, and that was surely worth his life.

She smiled tightly. He squinted a bit at that. Was she already reading his mind?

_Fracking Jedi…_

She sniffed, quietly, but enough to make Hux question the security of his thoughts again. He shifted to his usual defense mechanism: thinking about various equations and other complicated thought experiments that distracted and confused – or bored – anyone snooping into his mind. It seemed to work for Snoke and Kylo, at least for cursory probes, it should be good enough for an untrained novice. At least, Hux had never heard of Princess Leia receiving any kind of formal Jedi training, though the power with which she was born was undoubtedly formidable on its own.

"That's not going to stop me," she said, easing herself into the chair beside Poe as he jumped up to pull it out for her.

Hux kept up the even stare, but his confidence faltered. Something wasn't right. Something was different about her.

Surely she wasn't going to behave like her barbaric son and—

The pain that lanced through his mind drew a sharp gasp from him. His eyes widened. This wasn't what he'd expected at all.

"Whatever trick you think you're going to play on us, you are sorely mistaken," she said, her expression dour, menacing even. "We have neither the security, nor time to waste with your games."

She made a motion and Hux felt his manacled hands rise and pull forward. The magnacuffs attached themselves to the middle of the table with a resounding _clunk_. His back ached, bent into this new position, and he tried to scoot forward in his chair to ease the strain, but found that he couldn't move his body either. It was the same technique Ren used to freeze his prey.

He set his jaw and glared at her. Still defiant but curious. Worried, but not pleading. Not yet, anyway.

"No tricks," he said, when she allowed him enough movement to speak and he felt he could trust his voice not to waver. "My life, my safety, for your son. An even trade."

"There's nothing 'even' about it," she hissed, pulling him into more of a stressed position. Dameron glanced over, his eyes widening at the malice in her voice. "You murdered _billions_. And you're going to pay for it."

"I can bring you your son, but if you harm me I'll tell you _nothing_ ," Hux spat back with equal vitriol.

Leia smiled, almost sweetly, and patted his cheek as though he were a small child being comforted. "I don't need you to tell me anything."

He opened his mouth to reply, but only a startled yelp came out. The Force pushing into his mind intensified, like the sudden, stabbing headaches he sometimes got when he'd gone too long without sustenance on a double shift. He pulled back against his bonds and sought refuge in distracting thoughts, but the effort was useless. Nothing could prevent a Force user from breaching his defenses if they were determined enough. 

It hurt, but in a different way to Snoke's or Kylo's intrusions. Snoke's presence felt slimy, sickly. Kylo's was all fire and temerity. But Leia… Leia slid into his memories like a dagger made of ice. Precise and cold. Detached. As professional and emotionless as an assassin.

Hux let out a strangled cry and scrunched his eyes shut, as though that would protect him from seeing the awful things she had discovered.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Organa honed in on memories that featured her son, his abuses too numerous to count over the past year. And Hux _felt_ it… the shattering of his shoulder against the consoles in the command shuttle, the bruising on his hip, the crack of his skull. Kylo flinging him about as Snoke had, smashing him into floors, walls, and columns, even into the ceiling. Choking him, making his lungs burn and strain for air.

 _You can breathe! It's just in your mind!_ Hux gulped in oxygen, only to find that it didn’t feel as though it were actually diffusing through his lungs.

Snoke's lighting, crackling through his veins, the fire spreading up through his arms and seizing his muscles. Squeezing. Squeezing until he thought he would burst. Those gnarled fingers flicking upward, suspending Hux over the chasm in the throne room. Feeling his stomach drop as though he were falling, flailing, choking, burning all at once, right here, right now in this room. 

He collapsed onto the table, shaking, fighting against the small noises that crawled up the back of his throat.

"General…" Poe started, softly.

"I'm not finished yet."

There was more… so much more… he couldn't let her see.

*Show me your fear.*

Time stretched immeasurably, yet snapped into one instant, one singularity where all of his agony seemed to last forever and yet shift all at once to something even more horrible. Back… back they went… but elements of the present distorted the memories. It was inevitable. The boys, the men, who hurt him hadn't done so only once. Some had changed, some had stayed the same. Some had been with him almost his entire life.

One memory snapped forward, the clarity of its cruelty sharp as a blade.

Admiral Brooks, after that incident with the spilled whiskey, forcing him to drink the entire bottle until he could hardly stand up, much less fight off the larger man. His rancid breath hot against Hux's neck as he pushed him down onto the sofa, telling him he was "such a good boy" when he cooperated. His fat fingers pawing at Hux's pants and finally working their way inside him while he cried and whimpered into Brooks' other hand and tried to stay quiet.

He could feel it now: those rough hands violating him, that vast weight pressing down atop him, making it hard to breathe and impossible to struggle.

"No!" he whimpered. "No! Stop! Please!"

Leia hesitated a moment, her outstretched hand faltering.

A chair barked against the floor as Poe stood. "General, I—" He took a deep breath. "I don't want to question your judgement – you know best what needs to be done – but I-I—"

"Of course, Poe—" Her voice, soft and maternal, was so different to the sharp, frosty tone that Hux had been hearing in his head. "—You don't need to be here for this."

"I... don't need to be here for this…" He backed away slowly and left. 

Behind Poe the door slid shut, heavy as a condemnation.

Hux grit his teeth and braced for her renewed assault, but he was not prepared for the depths of agony that she brought. She plucked at each strand of memory like an expert weaver crafting a tapestry of anguish. From Kylo, to Snoke, to Brooks, to Pryde, to various Imperial officials, and finally, his teachers and classmates in the academy: every abuse he'd suffered relived in a moment that lasted for an eternity. They were everywhere, savaging every hole, beating him, electrocuting him, cutting him, burning him… 

He screamed.

* * * * * * * * *

Poe blinked at the door to his quarters.

He stood at the threshold for a moment, trying to remember what it was that he'd been doing and how he'd gotten there. A scream, like a distant echo, sounded from... somewhere, but when he tried to hone in on it he realized it was just a ringing in his ear. Shaking his head, he punched in his code and went inside. It wasn't until he sat down at his desk that he realized his datapad was missing. He'd left it somewhere. 

Sure, he was sometimes scatterbrained when he became laser focused on one goal – like flying, when the enemy clicked into his sights and everything else became irrelevant – but it was highly unlike him to leave anything containing sensitive data around where just anyone could find it. He got up to go search for it, but when the door slid open, Rey was standing there, fist hanging in the air mid-knock.

"Oh," she said, smiling and stepping back to let him out. "I was just… I was… well…" She took a breath and started again, leaning in to whisper, "I was wondering if you thought the general has been… out of sorts today?"

 _The general? The general! That's right!_ He remembered now, and his face must have given away his surprise because Rey cocked her head and lifted one eyebrow.

He frowned as the memories flooded back. The interrogation room. That's where he'd left his datapad. And the general… she had been… _torturing_ Hux. "Yeah…" He nodded. "Yeah, I'll say."

Rey's fine brows knitted into an expression of anguish. Perhaps she had gleaned his thoughts – though Poe didn't think _she_ would do something like that – or maybe just sensed his consternation.

"Walk with me," he said, stepping out and locking the door behind him.

Rey trotted to keep beside him at his clipped pace. "What's going on?" she whispered, looking around.

"I don't know, but I don't like it."

"Should I get Finn?"

"Maybe…" Poe's gut tightened and he swallowed hard. He didn't want to admit what he was thinking, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it true and thus, his fault. He also didn't want to involve any more of his friends that could be – he hated to even consider it – _hurt_. "I don't know. How is his, you know—" Poe mimed swinging a lightsaber, complete with requisite sounds, "—coming along?"

"It's—" she hesitated, chuckling a bit, "—coming… He's fine with the fighting part, it's the 'letting go' bit that he's struggling with. Why?"

"I'm just… concerned. I don't think I can handle this alone, but..." He stopped walking and ducked into a side corridor. Rey had to hop back to follow him. Once she'd stepped in beside him, Poe leaned his head out to look around. No one in sight. He ducked back in and looked Rey directly in the eyes. "She's… I've never seen her like this before. Yes, I mean, Leia's had to make some hard decisions, we all have, but… this… this isn't right, Rey. She's torturing him."

Rey blanched. "What? Who?"

"Hug— Hux. General Hux." Poe watched her mirror his pained expression. "A splinter cell brought him in a few days ago. They'd already worked him over pretty badly. He says he wants to defect." He took a deep breath. "I don't understand. She's always been against this kind of thing. I know he's probably lying, but… Rey, this isn't right."

Rey considered his words carefully and, after a moment, nodded. "If… if this is true – and I'm not saying it isn't but – if she's somehow fallen to the Dark Side, that would explain the strange vision I had while Finn and I were meditating."

"I think…" Poe shuddered. "I think she used a mind trick on me to make me leave, so she could… I don't know. I don't want to know. Why would she do that to me?"

"I don't know, Poe, but you're right. This isn't right. We have to stop her."

"Can we?"

Rey looked at him, and even without a sliver of Force sensitivity, he could feel her pain.

"We have to try."

Poe nodded. On the what, they agreed. As for the how…

* * * * * * * * *

_I have to try…_

Hux pulled against the magnacuffs with what feeble strength remained in him. Sweat glistened on his arms, but the salt wasn't slick enough. Maybe… maybe if he could exacerbate the wounds at his wrists he could use the blood to slip out of the restraints. 

The door hissed open.

Hux stilled but his whole body remained tense, bracing for more pain. His heart hammered against his aching ribs, but he did not turn his head or look up. Still pulled across the table at an awkward angle, agony lanced up and down his spine. He tried to keep his breathing deep and even, pretending to be asleep, though he knew the effort was futile.

"Hugs… You awake?"

It was the pilot again.

He tried to say something but his throat felt as parched and gritty as the Jakku desert.

Dameron continued, self-doubt evident in his hesitation. "I'm… I'm gonna get you out of here. Rey's distracting Leia, but we don't have much time."

Hands closed around his manacled wrists. The touch was firm but soft. With a click, the magnacuffs opened and Dameron held fast, easing Hux back into the chair so that he wouldn't fall.

Hux let out a sigh, but the sinews of his back began to burn from exhaustion after the brief reprieve. He winced and tried to meet Dameron's eyes, but the man's gaze flicked everywhere but at him. He tapped away at something on his datapad. 

Surely, this was some sort of trick to raise his hopes. A childish play of good officer, bad officer.

"Why?" he croaked.

"Because… because this—" Dameron threw his arms wide and gestured around the room, "—isn't right. It isn't who we are."

Hux scoffed. It was plenty who they were. The Republic held high ideals that virtually none of its adherents could live up to. Dameron had just refused, or been too callow, to see it. 

Finally, Dameron deigned to look at him, hands on his hips. "Fine. Believe what you want, but I'm not gonna stand for it. You wanna stay here, or you wanna go?"

Leaning back into the chair, cradling his ribs, Hux regarded him with suspicion for a moment more. If he ran, where would he go? Back to the First Order? Disgraced? He had connections throughout the Outer and Mid Rims, as well as the Unknown Regions, but he'd rather not rely on them unless it were absolutely necessary.

Hux nodded and struggled to his feet. Dameron reached out to steady him when he wobbled. 

His lips pressed into a thin line, Hux accepted the aid, but conflict churned within him. He didn't need any charity from Republic scum, but… he did. And he didn't know how he felt about that. Offended, certainly. Inadequate, maybe. Foolish, definitely. 

_Guilty?_

What he'd said about the Order under Ren's leadership had been the truth. And the truth shamed him: the Order as he knew it, as he wanted it to be, was no more. 

Neither, it seemed, was the Republic what Dameron had believed it to be.

Dameron shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Hux's bare shoulders. 

The gesture was considerate and oddly comforting.

His hand still hovered near Hux's arm. "Can you walk?"

"I-I think so." He took a few tentative steps; his ankle had been twisted during the struggle to defend himself, but the pain only sharpened his senses. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle… or so he told himself shortly before stumbling directly into Dameron's embrace.

"Whoa, buddy. You sure about that?"

Cheeks and ears flushing red, Hux tried to push himself away, but the uncomfortable truth was that he would need to lean on Dameron to walk any great distance. The pilot didn't seem to mind in the slightest, which only served to deepen his blush.

Dameron smiled, but his lips twitched in a way that indicated he was stifling a laugh.

"I'm fine," Hux rasped, a bit more sharply than he'd intended.

"If you say so," Dameron said, but he didn't withdraw his support. Instead he shifted around to Hux's side and let him use his shoulder. "Come on."

Hux shuffled along as quickly as he could to keep up with Dameron’s nervous pace. He didn't complain.

As they passed through a staging area, Poe swiped a pilot's helmet off a crate. "Put this on."

Hux complied. The helmet was snug and did nothing to improve his headache, but it was an adequate completion to his disguise.

As they headed toward a pair of X-Wings standing in a jungle clearing, Dameron asked, "So, uh, I guess I should have asked sooner, but I figured, well… You _can_ fly one of these, yeah?"

"Of course." Hux balked at the suggestion. He'd logged almost as many hours in X-Wing sims as he had on TIEs, freighters, and other starships and starfighters.

"All right. No need to get testy. It's just… this is gonna be a real short escape, otherwise."

"You mean you're not just going to shoot me down the moment I take off?"

"No." Dameron drew back, stung by the accusation. "Of course not."

Hux started up the ladder to the cockpit, but Dameron reached out, placing his hand on Hux's forearm. "Hey… I'm, uh… I'm sorry about… what I said about your mom… back at D'Qar."

Hux stared at him, finally meeting those soulful brown eyes and seeing real sincerity there.

Every moment of Hux's life had been meticulously planned – his speeches, in particular – but when he opened his mouth, even he wasn't sure what was about to come out. The words surprised him as much as they did the pilot. "Poe… come with me."

"What? No, I couldn't. I—"

Before he could question himself, Hux hurried to explain. "Both of our leaders have lost sight of what the galaxy needs. The First Order… the Republic… none of this is what it should be. What it _could_ be."

Dameron glanced over his shoulder. Of course he was reluctant; he had friends here. That didn't deter Hux, though. Friends would be needed, on both sides, if this were going to work. Hux could see that his words had stoked Dameron's idealism, so he kept his momentum going before he could argue further.

"To the Maw with all of this. Poe—" Dameron turned back to look at him, the intimacy and fervor in Hux's voice startling him. "—neither of our leaders has done what they promised. We have a real chance here. We can start something new. We can make all of this right. My people. Your people. Together. Join me." 

Dameron swallowed and looked back over his shoulder again, but Hux could see his charismatic and – if he were being completely honest with himself – heartfelt words taking hold.

"Yeah?"

Hux nodded. "Yeah."

"Yeah." Poe nodded, too, the bobbing of his head becoming more vigorous as he convinced himself. "All right. Let's go. I know just the place we can go to talk this out." He turned and jogged off to his own X-Wing, whistling for his astromech to follow him.

For once in his life, Hux smiled without malice… and meant it.


End file.
